The German gunboat, that theHawkhad been following so assiduously, had disappeared in the fog of the Sunday on which theAnnwas stopped. Nevertheless, Calamity set the course each day with an unhesitating decisiveness which seemed to suggest that he had some definite plan in view. A day or two after that encounter a large steam-yacht painted war-grey, and flying no ensign, was sighted steaming in a northerly direction. Calamity, who was on the bridge at the time, examined her through his glasses and then handed them to Smith, the mate being below.
"What do you make of her?" he asked.
The second-mate, after a long and careful scrutiny, handed the glasses back.
"Looks like a commerce-destroyer," he said, "but blowed if I can tell what nationality she is."
"H'm, we'll soon find out," answered the Captain. "Go for'ad and send a shot after her as soon as I've altered the course."
Smith left the bridge, and, mounting the foc'sle, took the tarpaulin cover off the quick-firer which was mounted there. Meanwhile Calamity had brought theHawk'snose round so that he was now in the wake of the strange ship.
"All ready, sir!" shouted Smith.
"Then let her have it."
The second-mate carefully laid the gun and next minute a shell went hurtling over the yacht's stern; too high to do any damage, yet near enough to make any nervous persons on board feel more nervous still. The noise brought the privateer's crew tumbling on deck, eager to see what was happening. Then, before the sound of the shot had died away, the yacht was observed to be changing her course—steaming round in the arc of a circle to starboard of theHawk. Obviously she was not running away, and the inference was that she intended to fight.
"Pipe to quarters!" cried Calamity from the bridge; but before the bos'n had time to obey the order the men were rushing to their places. It seemed as if there was going to be a fight at last.
The yacht, a steamer of about 3,000 tons, came round with her bows pointing towards theHawk'sstarboard quarter, and, as she reached that position, there came the sullen boom of a gun. A shell whistled above the privateer's upper works, smashing to splinters one of the boats which the carpenter had been repairing on the davits. A second shot followed hard upon the first, and then a third, which smashed one of the raised skylights above the engine-room, sending a shower of broken glass upon the men below.
"Blimey!" ejaculated Smith as he stood by his gun, lanyard in hand, "this looks like the real thing—not half it don't."
The damage done by the last two shots would have been greater still had not Calamity thrust the quartermaster away from the wheel and taken it himself. Under his control, theHawkslewed round so that she presented only her bows as a target for her opponent. As the sound of the latter's guns died away, she was seen to hoist the German naval ensign at her stern, while a signal hoist was run up to the mast-head signifying "Surrender or I sink you."
There was a lull, the two vessels facing each other bows-on like a couple of fierce dogs about to fight. Then a little bundle trundled up to theHawk'striatic stay, broke, and two burgees, one blue and white, the other red, fluttered out in the breeze. It was Calamity's answer: "Stand by to abandon ship." As his men looked up and read the signal there was a burst of hoarse laughter, followed by a ringing cheer. They realised the grim humour of the message, and thoroughly appreciated it.
During the next half-hour the engagement consisted only of the exchange of a few shots, one or two of which did damage on both sides. The belligerents were manoeuvring for position, each trying to force the other to fight facing the sun, which would, of course, place him at a serious disadvantage. While these tactical evolutions were in progress, a couple of theHawk'smen received wounds and Miss Fletcher, who had been watching the spectacle through her cabin porthole, rushed on deck, in spite of the risk she ran of being hit herself. She was helping to remove one of the injured men, when Calamity caught sight of her.
"Send that fool-woman to her cabin!" he roared to Mr. Dykes.
The mate hesitated. He was extraordinarily impressed by the girl's plucky act, but the Captain's order, though a wise one, struck him as being unduly harsh. Besides, he was loth to miss such a unique opportunity of, perhaps, doing daring deeds under her very eyes.
"D'you hear what I say?" shouted the Captain.
"Excuse me, sir," he answered; "but who's to look after the wounded if Miss Fletcher doesn't?"
"If the girl wants to make herself useful she can dress the men's wounds in the hold. But I won't have a woman on deck during a fight."
It was an ungracious order, but Mr. Dykes had nothing for it but to leave the bridge and acquaint Miss Fletcher with the Captain's instructions.
"The skipper's compliments," he said, "and would you attend to the wounded when they're taken down to the hold?"
The girl glanced at him sharply; probably the hesitating manner in which he spoke roused her suspicions.
"That's not what he said?" she challenged.
"Well, I guess it's as near as no matter."
"You mean he has ordered me off the deck?"
The mate made a deprecatory gesture and turned away. For a moment the girl hesitated, half inclined to defy the Captain's orders and remain on deck. Then the futility of any such act of defiance occurred to her, and she returned to her cabin, locking the door behind her.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, stamping her foot with rage, "I hate him!"
She continued to hate him ardently for a while, and then, as this gave little real satisfaction, she opened her cabin door and peered out just as Smith was passing.
"Are you going on to the bridge?" she asked.
"Yes," he answered, pausing.
"Then be good enough to tell the Captain that he can tend the wounded himself," she burst out, and slammed the door before the astonished second-mate could recover from his surprise.
He duly delivered her message, but it was doubtful if Calamity heard it; certainly he made no comment, and Smith thought it wise to let the matter go at that.
The two vessels were still fencing and manoeuvring, getting a shot in when and wherever they could. But at last both the commanders tired of these fruitless tactics, and then the engagement began in real earnest. The yacht was armed with lighter guns than those of her opponent, but she had more of them, and, in addition, possessed the advantage of speed, being capable of answering her helm twice as quickly as the privateer. This enabled her to swing round at all angles, catch theHawkbroadside-on and sweep her decks fore and aft. Notwithstanding this, she by no means had it all her own way, for the privateer kept up a steady, well-trained fire that made things aboard her adversary more than lively.
As only those men who served the guns were allowed on deck, the casualties were relatively small on theHawk. Whenever a man fell, his place was taken by another from the reserve men in the foc'sle and thus unnecessary losses were avoided. A hospital of sorts had been rigged up in the for'ad hold and here the wounded men were carried and placed on mattresses until such time as they could be attended to.
Calamity had thrown off his jacket, and, with arms bared to the elbows, was working the quick-firer on the bridge, three of the gun's crew having been killed or wounded.
"Hit her amidships, in the engine-room!" he shouted to Mr. Dykes, who had charge of the gun on the poop.
A minute or two later there was a loud explosion on the yacht, owing to one of her guns being hit while loaded, by a shell from theHawk. A wild cheer went up from the privateers' men, and Calamity, thinking he might board his adversary in the confusion, bellowed an order to the quartermaster.
"Hard a starboard! Quick, damn your eyes!"
"Hard a——" the quartermaster started to echo, but before he could finish a fragment of shell struck him, and Calamity, swinging round to see what had happened, was bespattered with blood and brains. He sprang to the wheel, and, pushing aside the dead body with his foot, altered the helm. But it was too late, the other had divined his purpose and was drawing off. Instantly theHawkstarted in pursuit, but, as she came round in the yacht's wake, a ricocheting shell dropped through the engine-room skylight and there was an explosion below which shook the vessel from stem to stern. Volumes of hissing steam ascended through the gratings and ventilators, while, above the roar, came the agonised shrieks of some wretched firemen who were being scalded to death in the stokehold.
A man, his face a wet, shapeless, raw mass of flesh, stumbled out of the fiddley, staggered a few paces, and fell sprawling on the deck. Another followed whose hair, still attached to the skin, was falling off in lumps, and he, too, collapsed on the deck. At the same moment the steady throb of the engines ceased and theHawkbegan to lose way. Meanwhile the German had drawn off, and, for the time being, firing ceased on both sides. The enemy, it would seem, was in little better condition than the privateer, for she was steaming at a rate of certainly not more than five knots. Calamity, watching her from the bridge, cursed aloud as he saw his hoped-for prize slowly but surely getting away while he was unable to prevent her or to go in pursuit.
"Send for McPhulach!" he cried; but, before anyone could obey, the chief-engineer mounted to the bridge.
"I'm sair dootin' we'll hae to bide where we are," he remarked placidly.
"Do you mean to say the engines are wrecked?" demanded Calamity.
"I wouldna go sae far as tae say that," answered the engineer. "Ye micht speak o' them as assorted scrap-iron."
The Captain laid a firm hand on McPhulach's arm.
"You've got to repair those engines," he said quietly.
"Eh!"
"You heard me."
"Losh presarve us, mon, the A'michty Himsel' couldna do it!"
"The Almighty's not chief engineer of theHawk, so you needn't worry about that. Get those engines going or I'll string you up at the end of a derrick."
"Guid God, are ye mad, mon!" gasped the engineer.
"Mad or sane, I'll do what I say."
"I tell ye the engine-room's like a steam-laundry," wailed McPhulach. "There isna a pipe that isna squairting steam out of some crack or itha, and it'll take all the cotton-waste in the ship to bind up the leaks. It's a plumber's job, no' an engineer's."
"Well, if you can't do your job, I'll undertake to do mine," said the Captain grimly.
McPhulach emitted a groan, then took from his pocket a short and very rank briar pipe. A look of phlegmatic resignation had come over his face.
"Maybe ye're richt, skipper," he said. "Hae ye got sic a thing as a plug o' tobaccy on ye'r pairson?"
Calamity handed him a pouch of tobacco. McPhulach filled his pipe, and, remarking that he might run short, also put some tobacco loose in his pocket.
"Gin ye hae a match, I'll go below and see what can be done," he said.
The Captain produced a box of vestas. The engineer lit his pipe, and, absent-mindedly dropping the matches into his own pocket, left the bridge.
The mate, meanwhile, had been superintending the removal of the wounded and the washing down of the decks. Three men had been killed, not including two firemen scalded to death in the stokehold, and the wounded numbered eleven. The latter were made as comfortable as possible in the hold and the former were carried into the wheel-house pending burial.
Gradually the commerce-destroyer became smaller and smaller, until, by evening, all that was visible of her was a feathery smoke-trail on the horizon.
Soon after eight bells that night, McPhulach succeeded in performing a miracle—theHawk'sengines began to move.
Slowly, like a convalescent taking his first walk and as yet doubtful of his strength, theHawkbegan to push the seas aside and move ahead. The engines, instead of working with rhythmic regularity, were banging and thumping in jerky spasms—still, they were working—the bridge shook with their ponderous vibrations, while the wire funnel stays tautened and slacked as the smokestack quivered.
The first duty accomplished after the clearing up of the decks was the disposal of the dead, which were placed in canvas bags weighted with firebars to ensure their sinking. There were no prayers, services, or ceremonies of any kind; they were simply dropped over the side....
In the hold Calamity and the mate were at work with their coats off and shirt-sleeves rolled up. Some of the hatch-covers had been removed to secure better ventilation and a couple of lanterns suspended from the girders flickered feebly in the semi-twilight. Against the bulkheads were two rows of mattresses arranged so as to leave a passage between them, and on some of these lay wounded men, each with a coarse, black blanket thrown over him. The Captain, assisted by Mr. Dykes, was attending to the more serious cases in a manner which caused the mate considerable secret astonishment. He had expected to see the skipper perform the duties of surgeon in a rough and ready if not a brutal way, and had felt a strong sympathy for his prospective victims. Instead, Calamity handled the men with almost professional skill, performing even serious operations with deft, quick fingers, and without either nervousness or hesitation. A smile, a cheery word of encouragement, a full-flavoured joke worked wonders, and a man, even in excruciating pain, would grin feebly at some broad jest uttered by the Captain.
Dora Fletcher, who had thought better of her first hasty decision, was dressing some of the minor wounds. To her, Calamity's new rôle came as a startling revelation of a hitherto unsuspected phase of his character. She, who had seen him commit acts of unquestionable brutality, now watched him pass from bed to bed with an air of quiet assurance that inspired even the worst cases with new confidence and hope. Men flinched apprehensively as he approached to examine their injuries, but his touch, though firm, was as gentle as a woman's, and their fears were quickly set at rest.
He scarcely even glanced at the girl, and when he did so it was to give some curt directions as from a surgeon to a nurse. Yet she felt strangely happy and triumphant, for at last he had been forced to recognise and to demand her assistance. She felt herself necessary to him, and the terse orders, involving her co-operation in the work of succour, seemed to her a tacit admission of the fact. Henceforth she would at least be an entity in his eyes; he would have to acknowledge her existence, even if he resented it.
After the Captain and Mr. Dykes had gone; throughout the whole night, indeed, the girl remained at her post. She found plenty to do; giving cooling drinks to those whose throats were parched with fever, readjusting dressings which had worked out of place, and performing the hundred and one offices which fall to the lot of a watcher of the sick. At intervals during the night the mate or Smith would enter the dim hold, which now reeked with the pungent odour of antiseptics, to proffer their services, and once Mr. Dykes tried to persuade her to turn in. But she rejected the suggestion indignantly, and ordered him out of the place, whereupon he departed sheepishly. At about five o'clock in the morning Calamity looked in again and seemed surprised to find her there.
"How long have you been on watch?" he asked.
"Since you left," she answered.
"Then you'd no right to. Dykes or Smith should have told off a man to keep watch. Get off to your bunk. I don't want a sick woman aboard."
Without a word she left the sick-bay, and then, for the first time, realised how exhausted she really was. Without troubling to undress, she flung herself upon the bunk and was asleep almost before her head touched the pillow.
All that day and the next as well, theHawkchugged her way in a northerly direction, her speed never exceeding six knots and sometimes falling below that. How McPhulach had contrived to patch up her engines sufficiently to do even so much was a mystery no one but himself could have explained. Still, they might break down again at any moment, and it was absolutely necessary to find some port where the repairs could be carried out more thoroughly, and with the proper appliances. In the meantime much of the damage sustained in the encounter with the yacht had been repaired. Paint and canvas had done much to cover the effects of shot and shell, and outwardly, at least, theHawkhad resumed her normal appearance. But it was merely superficial, like the creams and cosmetics used by a faded beauty to hide the ravages of time. In fact she was, as Smith put it, "a whited bloomin' sepulchre."
On the second morning, as Miss Fletcher was going down to the hold, she met Mr. Dykes.
"The skipper's orders are that you're to take four-hour watches, so that you'll have a rest between each spell," he said.
She merely nodded and passed into the hold. The dim, yellow glow of the lanterns was fading in the growing daylight, making the surroundings more gloomy and depressing than even the half-light. She moved from bed to bed with noiseless steps, performing various little services for the sufferers. One man, who knew that he was dying, asked her to write down and witness his last will and testament—a curiously pathetic document—and for another she wrote a letter that was to be posted at the first port the ship touched. In a far corner she found a man making feeble efforts to undo the front of his shirt. He was too weak to speak, and, wondering what he wanted, the girl unbuttoned it to find a small silver crucifix suspended from a piece of string round his neck. Divining his need, she placed it in his hand, and the coarse, misshapen fingers closed over the Symbol; thus he died.
Soon afterwards the Captain entered and passed between the beds, stopping to ask each of the patients how he was getting on, and giving a cheery word of encouragement to everyone. At last he reached the bed where Dora Fletcher stood over the dead figure, whose fingers still clasped the little silver crucifix.
"H'm," he grunted, "another loss. Anything to report?"
In a few words the girl described the condition and progress of the various patients. At the conclusion Calamity nodded, but made no comment.
"I should like to ask you a favour, Captain," she said quietly.
"A favour? Well, what is it?" he demanded in a tone that was the reverse of encouraging.
"Do you think you could give this poor fellow"—she indicated the dead man on the bed—"a Christian burial? I—I think he would have wished it."
A look of mingled surprise and annoyance came into the Captain's face as he glanced at the unconscious figure.
"The man's dead, isn't he?"
"Yes, of course," answered the girl, puzzled by the question.
"Then what difference can it make to him how he's buried?" demanded Calamity, and, without waiting for an answer, walked away.
Later on that day Mr. Dykes urged the request again at Miss Fletcher's desire.
"I can't make distinctions," replied the Captain. "The man's got to take his chance of paradise with the rest. I'm not going to give him an unfair advantage over the others. Besides, this is a cheerful ship, and I don't intend to depress the living by reading burial services over the dead. They'll get their proper ratings without my assistance."
So that evening the corpse, sewed up in canvas and weighted with a piece of pig-iron, was cast over the side without ceremony.
Early on the following morning the look-out upon the foc'sle head reported land on the starboard bow.
The news brought the men rushing on deck at once, for the sight of land to sailors at sea is always an interesting event, savouring of adventure, women, and wine. The news was immediately reported to the Captain, who hurried on to the bridge and scrutinised the seeming cloud for some time through the glasses which Smith, who was on watch, handed to him.
"H'm," grunted Calamity, "an island."
"One of the Palau Group I should say, sir."
"Which means that it's German—eh?"
"WasGerman, sir," corrected the second-mate.
"There's no knowing; among so many scattered islands it's quite possible that one or two may have been overlooked by our cruisers."
"Maybe, sir," answered Smith doubtfully.
Calamity again focussed the glasses on the dark smudge in the dim distance. As he had just pointed out to the second-mate, it was quite possible that some of the small islands which went to make up what was once called the Bismarck Archipelago had escaped official annexation. This seemed the more probable since two German vessels, the gunboat and the commerce-destroyer, were apparently still at large in these waters. Both ships, particularly the former, would require a coaling station not too far away, and what more likely, therefore, than that there should be one hidden away among these innumerable islands?
TheHawkslowly bore down upon the land, but her speed was now so reduced that night had set in before those on board were able to get a really good view. By the following morning, however, they found themselves within a mile of it, and its palm-fringed beaches could be seen plainly from the deck. There was nothing about the island to excite wonder or interest, save that it just happened to be dry land amidst a boundless waste of blue waters. Numbers of such islands, many of them far larger, were to be met with in these latitudes.
Yet, because it was land, and suggestive of illicit pleasures, there was an air of suppressed excitement aboard theHawk. Throughout the day she coasted slowly round it, but never once did a canoe or a catamaran put off to trade; indeed, not a vestige of human life was to be seen. At last, after they had nearly completed a circuit of the island, a small harbour was sighted at the eastern extremity. On a hill, overlooking the entrance, was a structure which suggested a fort, and this at once gave Calamity the idea that the gunboat which had hitherto eluded him was probably ensconced within this harbour. To "dig out" the pirate and take possession of her spoils was the first thought which occurred to him, but another and a stronger motive made him decide to enter the harbour at all costs. This was the fact that theHawk'sengines were next door to useless, and, unless they could be more effectually repaired, would become entirely so. It was quite possible, he reflected, that if the island really was a German station, there would be appliances for dealing with engine-room mishaps.
So, towards sundown, he steered boldly for the harbour, even blowing the steam syren to call attention to his visit. The flagstaff on the fort, he noticed, was bare, although as theHawkdrew nearer it was possible to make out an inconspicuous wireless installation.
"German without a doubt," he remarked to himself. "If it were British the Union Jack would be floating up there."
He turned to Mr. Dykes and in a few words explained what he wanted done. TheHawkwas to pose as a harmless American merchantman which had put in for the purpose of trying to obtain some coal. The large crew, totally out of proportion to the number required to man a peaceful "tramp," were to remain in the foc'sle, except one or two who were to lounge about the deck for show purposes. Therefore in a very few minutes the decks were deserted except for the look-out and a couple of grimy firemen who leant over the bulwarks expectorating into the water. Half an hour later, theHawkreached the mouth of the harbour and the syren emitted three ear-piercing shrieks.
The sound had scarcely died away when a boat, manned by natives and with a white man seated in the stern-sheets, put off from a small, wooden jetty beneath the fort. When within hailing distance, the man in the stern stood up and put both hands to his mouth.
"Wie heisst das schiff?" he bawled.
"Don't get you," answered Calamity; "have another try."
"Vot schip vos dot?" bellowed the other, who was evidently some sort of port official.
"This is the American steamerHawk, Singapore for Valparaiso."
"Vy you no show your flarg?" inquired the official, his boat coming nearer theHawkevery moment.
"Sorry; if I'd known it was your birthday, guess I'd have hoisted a bit of bunting," replied the pseudo Yankee skipper, and gave an order which resulted in the Stars and Stripes fluttering out astern.
The reply, however, did not appear to please the official.
"You 'eave-to!" he commanded. "I vant to see your papers."
Calamity rang down "Stop," the engines ceased thudding and a couple of men came out on deck and threw a rope-ladder over the side. A moment later the boat came alongside and the official, a short, fat little man, ascended the ladder with some difficulty, alighting on deck hot and breathless. Meanwhile his coffee-coloured cox'n having made the boat fast to a rung of the rope-ladder, sat down and lighted a cheroot.
"You vas der Captain?" asked the newcomer of Calamity, as soon as he had recovered his breath.
"Yes."
"You must produce your papers."
"If you'll come with me, sir, I'll show them to you," answered Calamity politely, and led the way towards his cabin.
Suddenly he stopped near the after-hatch, from which a couple of the covers had previously been removed.
"Like to have a squint at the cargo?" he asked. "Guess it'll interest you."
The fussy little man looked surprised at the question, but he stepped up to the hatch, and, leaning over the combing, peered into the obscure depths below. While he was still in this convenient attitude an impelling force caught him in the small of the back, and he shot downwards into the hold, alighting head foremost on a heap of sand-ballast. Then, before he had recovered sufficiently to raise a shout, the hatch-covers were promptly clapped on again and he was left there in the dark to meditate on the ups and downs of a port official's life.
Having satisfactorily disposed of this inquisitive person, Calamity returned to the bridge and theHawkbegan to steam slowly past the fort into the harbour. Two or three sentinels on the hill watched her progress, but they having seen her boarded by one of their officials doubtless concluded that all was well. Meanwhile Mr. Dykes had managed to convince the dusky cox'n in the waiting boat alongside that his master would remain on board, whereupon the man saluted, cast off the painter, and steered his boat shorewards.
When theHawkhad rounded the bend which hid the upper portion of the harbour from view, Mr. Dykes gave vent to a sudden exclamation of astonishment.
"Durned if that ain't our old bug-trap?"
Looking in the direction indicated by the mate, Calamity saw the pirate gunboat beached just beyond the jetty and lying on her side, evidently for the purpose of being repaired. His assumption, then, had been correct: this island was a secret coaling station and place of refuge for the very few German vessels which were still at large. However, he made no comment aloud, and in a few more minutes the anchor was let go and theHawkswung peacefully at her moorings.
The situation in which Calamity had voluntarily placed himself by entering this harbour was, as he fully realised, fraught with infinite peril. He knew that if he now attempted to escape he risked being sunk by the guns on the fort, yet he could not remain where he was much longer without being subjected to investigations which would result in capture, if not worse. Under the circumstances, therefore, there was only one thing to do, and that was to attack the fort and capture it. This plan, viewed impartially, seemed hopelessly impossible, especially if, as appeared highly probable, the fort were strongly garrisoned. Still, Calamity did not hesitate between this and the only alternative—surrender.
He sent for the two mates to whom, in a few curt sentences, he outlined his plan of action. It was simple in the extreme, and, by reason of its amazing boldness, might even be successful. The Germans, he argued, though regarding the vessel with suspicion, would hardly anticipate the landing of an armed party, which was what he contemplated. The brief twilight would soon descend, and, theHawkbeing safely bottled up in the harbour, the enemy would probably not worry much about her till the morning; therefore the attack was to be carried out as soon as darkness fell.
When this had been explained Calamity and his officers set about making preparations for the landing. A party consisting of as many men as could be packed into the ship's boats was to effect a landing under cover of the darkness, while those left on board were to open fire on the fort with the machine-guns directly the enemy discovered the attack. By this means it was hoped to cover the landing operations and prevent the defenders turning their heavier guns on the storming party. To this end Mr. Dykes was placed in temporary command of theHawk, Calamity himself undertaking to lead the attack from the shore.
In a remarkably short space of time the preparations were complete, and the only thing they waited for now was darkness—the swift, enveloping darkness of the tropics.
At last night came. Calamity gave the word and the men streamed out of the foc'sle, some rushing to the falls ready to lower the boats from the davits, others stowing arms and ammunition under the thwarts. Every man had his own particular duty to discharge; there was no confusion, no shouting of orders, no wild and objectless rushing about—everything was done quietly and systematically.
"Stand by!"
The Captain's voice was low but penetrating. Everyone stood still at his post.
"Slip!"
The boats dropped from the davits, the falls were cast off, the oars flung out, and the bowmen stood up, ready to push off at the order. Quickly, and with scarce a sound, the landing party swarmed down the rope-ladders and took their places in the boats.
"Give way!"
As one man, the rowers bent to their oars, the boats shot out into the darkness, and were lost to view by those left on board. The oars had been muffled, so that the only sounds which could be heard were the soft plash of the blades as they dipped into the water and the creaking of the thwarts and stretchers. But soon these noises died away in the distance, and then all seemed perfectly still to the dark figures crouching beside the guns on theHawk'sdecks.
About five minutes after the boats had left a tongue of flame suddenly leapt from the fort, followed by a dull boom. Evidently the Germans had just discovered the attack, and were attempting to sink the boats before they reached the shore. The sound of the gun had scarcely died away when Mr. Dykes passed the word to open fire on the fort, and there ensued a lively duel between the latter and theHawk. As it was a pitch dark night, each side had to guide its fire by the flashes of the enemy's guns, so that, at first, the shooting was somewhat erratic. But, after a while, the Germans began to get the range of theHawkand to make such good practice that Mr. Dykes had to order some of his men to fill bags with sand ballast and stack them along the bulwarks to afford additional protection to the gun crews. Unfortunately, the enemy's guns were of much heavier calibre than theHawk's, so that, when a shell struck the vessel, it did considerable damage.
"By Gum!" ejaculated the mate, "this is getting durned hot."
He had not reckoned upon receiving such a tremendous fusillade from the fort, and, though by no means a timorous man, began to fear that theHawkwould be sunk at her moorings. So far as he was able to tell at present, there had been only a few casualties on board, the bulwarks and sandbags affording an excellent protection for the men working the guns, although, had it been daylight, these would probably have been of little avail. But the steamer herself had suffered considerably; the deck-houses were mostly in splinters, all the skylights had been smashed, and where the funnel had once stood there was now only a jagged stump. Once the enemy succeeded in battering down the defences, his guns would simply annihilate every living thing on board.
"I wish some of them shells would cut our cables," he murmured to himself, "then we could just skidoo out of the harbour, and the old man couldn't say a word."
The notion of slipping the cables himself and creeping out of the harbour occurred to him more than once, but each time he dismissed it from his mind. It would certainly savour of cowardice to leave Calamity and his men on the island without a chance to retreat, while, if the Captain should ever succeed in getting within reach of him afterwards, the consequences would be very far from pleasant.
By this time one of theHawk'smachine-guns had been put out of action, and still the fort kept up an unceasing bombardment. Mr. Dykes was now fervently hoping that Calamity would abandon the attack, return on board, and get out of this hornet's nest with all possible speed—if, of course, the steamer was not already too battered about to get under way. With this possibility in view, he sent a man to fetch McPhulach and was exceedingly surprised to learn that the engineer could not be found.
"Ain't he in his cabin?" he inquired.
"No, sir, nor yet in the engine-room," replied the messenger.
"But he must be, the skipper said he was to stand by the engines."
"'E's not there," repeated the man.
"See if he's in the alleyway."
The man departed but returned with the information that McPhulach was not in the alleyway. Moreover, nobody on board had seen him since the landing party left.
"Fetch up Mr. Sims," said the mate.
Mr. Sims was the second-engineer, a melancholy man with watery eyes, a pallid face, and chronic dyspepsia, who never mixed with the other officers or uttered a word if he could possibly help it. He was, too, an indifferent engineer; but, as McPhulach had once said, the biggest success as a nonentity he had ever met.
"How long will it take us to get under way?" inquired the mate when Mr. Sims appeared.
"Half an hour, may be."
"What!" ejaculated Mr. Dykes.
Mr. Sims nodded in confirmation of his statement.
"Ain't there no steam, then?"
Mr. Sims shook his head.
"Then what in thunder have you been doing down there? Didn't you have orders to keep up a full head of steam?"
Mr. Sims nodded.
"For God's sake use your tongue, man," roared the mate. "Why ain't there no steam?"
"Because all the firemen are on deck."
Mr. Dykes almost danced with rage, yet this time he could say nothing for the simple reason that he now recollected having ordered all hands on deck for the purpose of serving the guns and passing up ammunition out of the hold.
"Oh, get to hell out of it!" he spluttered and Mr. Sims vanished back into obscurity.
Having despatched some firemen below to get up steam, the mate again fell to considering the advisability of drawing off since the enemy's fire showed no signs of slackening. To do him justice, it was not from fear of being himself hit at any moment, but rather from a vivid anticipation of the fate in store for him and the others on board if they fell into the hands of the enemy. Still, if Mr. Sims's report was correct, nothing could be done for at least half an hour.
In order to assure himself that the firemen were doing their utmost, Mr. Dykes left the bos'n's-mate in charge of the deck and descended to the stokehold—a thing he would not have dared to do had McPhulach been on board. Having ascertained that there was already a fair pressure of steam, he returned to the deck and personally tested the capstans used for hauling up the anchors.
"I'm goin' to get out of this death-trap," he said to the bos'n's-mate, "so stand by to pick up the anchor. Keep the men at the guns till I give the word to cease firing, else them durned Germans will smell a rat and butt in before we can quit."
"'Ow about the Cap'n, sir?" asked the man doubtfully.
"Damn your eyes, do what I tell you, and don't ask fool questions!" snapped the mate.
The man walked away, somewhat unwillingly Mr. Dykes thought, which made him all the more angry and determined to carry out his plan. He wasn't going to be dictated to by a swab of a bos'n's-mate or anyone else so long as he was in charge of the ship.
Having rung down "Stand by" to the engine-room, he went on to the foc'sle head to superintend the weighing of the anchor. When all was ready and he was about to pass the word to the man at the steam capstan, Miss Fletcher suddenly appeared on the foc'sle.
"What are you going to do?" she asked.
"Get under way," he answered curtly.
"And leave the Captain and his men in the lurch?"
"There ain't any Captain, nor men either, by now, so just quit this foc'sle," answered the mate in a voice of suppressed rage.
"That's as it may be," said the girl quietly, "but you're not going to heave that anchor."
"Eh!" exclaimed Mr. Dykes, scarce able to believe his ears.
"I say that you shan't leave this harbour till the Captain comes on board."
For a moment Mr. Dykes was so overcome with mingled astonishment and indignation that he could not speak. Then, uttering an oath, he sprang towards her, apparently with the intention of thrusting her off the foc'sle. Suddenly, however, he stopped dead as he caught sight of a revolver in the girl's hand. Then, while they still stood eyeing each other, the vessel gave an unexpected lurch which nearly threw them off their feet. The mate sprang to the side and gazed down into the dark water below.
"Euchred!" he ejaculated. "The tide's runnin' out and we're fast aground."
Having failed in his attempt to effect a landing without discovery, Calamity regarded the crossfire between the fort and theHawkas the next best thing, as it would to some extent distract the attention of the Germans from his own operations. Nevertheless, the defenders did not concentrate their fire wholly on the steamer, and some of their guns were firing, more or less promiscuously, into the harbour. Fortunately, they did not appear to have either searchlights or illuminating shells, for it was only the darkness and consequent inaccurate aim of the gunners that prevented the little force from being annihilated before a single boat touched the shore. Even as it was, the water around them was constantly sending up cascades where shells or fragments of bursting shrapnel struck it.
"Pull like hell!" roared Calamity above the din.
The men needed no urging and the boats leapt through the water with oars that bent under the strain. Suddenly, above the thunder of the guns, a terrible cry was heard, and where there had been a boatload of men a moment before, there was now only some splintered wreckage with a few wounded men clinging to it. Yet none dared go to their assistance for that would have meant inevitable destruction now that one, at least, of the enemy's guns had found the range. So, deaf to the shrieks of their comrades, the men in the remaining boats pulled like demons, expecting every moment to be blown out of the water by a well-placed shot. But at last the first boat, which was under the charge of the Captain himself, grounded. The men leapt out, waist-deep in the water, and, grabbing their rifles and cartridge belts, waded ashore. The other boats quickly followed, and Calamity, collecting his force, led it up the beach at the double towards some warehouses or "go-downs" that served to screen the enemy's fire.
Here he let them have a few minutes "stand-easy," while he consulted with his lieutenants, Smith and the bos'n. He had already formed a fairly accurate idea of the nature and strength of the defences to be overcome, and had arranged his plans accordingly. The fort, so far as he had been able to ascertain with the aid of glasses when steaming past it, appeared to be built principally of mud and shale with an outer defence consisting of a tall bamboo stockade. The approach from the harbour side consisted of a very steep incline which seemed totally devoid of any sort of cover and without anything in the nature of a road or track. But the fact that it was so steep placed the defenders at one disadvantage, because it made it practically impossible for them to train their big guns on the attacking force, although a well-directed musketry fire could not fail to cause fearful havoc in the latter's ranks. Still, Calamity's chief asset was the darkness, which, for one thing, prevented the Germans from seeing what a ridiculously small force he had with him.
Calamity gave the order to advance, the party left the shelter of the "go-downs," and moved towards the hill in open order. It was not till they started to climb that the enemy showed himself to be aware of their presence on the island. Then a brisk rifle-fire was opened on them from the fort, but the aim was too high, and the bullets flew harmlessly above the sailors' heads. Even by the time they were halfway up, only one man had been hit, and his wound was so slight that he continued to advance with the others. But now with each forward step the danger increased, and, as the attackers drew nearer and nearer to the stockade the bullets came perilously near, one or two men dropping out of the advance. But the long, thin line of creeping figures never wavered, though not one of them had as yet fired a shot. For the last fifty yards or so they simply crawled forward on their bellies, while a hail of bullets whistled above their heads.
Then, high above the din, there arose the long, shrill call of the bos'n's pipe. This was the signal to storm the fort, and the men, leaping to their feet, rushed across the few remaining yards that separated them from the stockade. While some, slinging their rifles across their backs, made prodigious efforts to scale the bamboo defences, others, provided with dynamite cartridges, tried to blow gaps in it to enable their comrades to enter. For a few minutes there was a terrific struggle, those of the attacking party who had succeeded in getting over or through the stockade, engaging in fierce hand-to-hand encounters with the defenders, using whatever weapon came handiest, rifle-butt, sheath-knife, or simply bare fists. But eventually the seamen, finding themselves hopelessly outnumbered, began to waver and fall back, fighting desperately all the time. At last they were forced to abandon the hardly-won ground altogether and then, as if acting on a common impulse, they turned and fled.
The Captain made a vain attempt to rally them, but they were unnerved, and, heedless of his shouts, fled in panic down the hill, till they reached the shelter of the "go-downs" at the bottom of the slope.
"To the boats!" cried someone. "We've 'ad enough of this 'ell. To the boats!"
But just as the men were about to make a move towards the water's edge, there came the sound of a terrific explosion and a great flame shot upwards from the fort on the hill, lighting up the landscape with a weird, lurid glare that must have been observable for miles around. Calamity's first thought was that a shell from theHawkhad exploded the magazine in the fort, but, whatever the cause, he saw here an opportunity to convert a rout into a victory.
"Fall in!" he shouted.
At sight of the disaster which had overtaken the enemy, the men regained their courage, and, forming into line once more, followed their Captain up the slope. On this occasion no deadly fire swept down upon them, and, in the light of the flames, they could see small bodies of terrified soldiers scrambling over the stockade or forcing their way through the gaps, in panic-stricken endeavours to escape from the blazing enclosure.
"Steady, lads!" cried Calamity. "Now give it them."
The straggling line of seamen halted, and next moment a hail of lead swept through the chaotic mass of Germans with fearful effect. Another volley followed, and some of the fugitives, in their terror, dashed back towards the blazing fort while others, more cool-headed, flung themselves flat upon the ground. Even so, a heap of dead and wounded lay around the stockade, and the few who had escaped threw up their arms in token of surrender.
Since it was impossible to enter the fort here owing to the flames, Calamity led his men round to the other side which, so far, had escaped the fire, and gave the word to attack. With a wild yell of triumph, the party rushed up to the palisades and those who could not scale them, smashed a way through with their rifle butts. So far there had been no resistance, but, as Calamity reformed his men inside the enclosure, some twenty or thirty soldiers advanced upon them, led by an officer who appeared to be the commandant of the fort. The space was too confined for an exchange of rifle-fire and so the two parties immediately engaged in a close encounter with whatever weapons came handiest. The defenders fought with the desperate courage of men determined to sell their lives as dearly as possible, the seamen with the savage ferocity of men still smarting under defeat and eager to avenge it. Yet so fierce was the resistance that it seemed as though theHawk'sparty might even now be forced to retreat, when, from the dense smoke in the Germans' rear, there came the sound of shots. The defenders, believing themselves attacked by another force from behind, threw down their arms, and their officer called out that he surrendered unconditionally.
There was a brief lull while Smith and the bos'n took charge of the prisoners. Then suddenly above the crackling of the flames, there arose, from amidst the smoke, a hoarse, stentorian voice bawling: